


Driftwood

by serialkarma



Category: The OC
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serialkarma/pseuds/serialkarma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation from September 2003:</p>
<p>HackThis: somebody needs to write the scene where Ryan gets hold of Seth's iPod.<br/>Me: Yes, someone does.<br/>HackThis: So you're gonna write that, right?<br/>Me: Um. Okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driftwood

Seth is forever leaving stuff in Ryan's room. Actually, he's forever leaving stuff everywhere, but lately it seems to be concentrated in Ryan's room, as though the poolhouse has become the gravitational focus for the ebb and flow of Seth's adolescence. The other day Ryan went around and collected the detritus, piling it up like so many seashells and pieces of driftwood on his bedspread: a leather-banded watch, a Kerouac novel, three lengths of rope for practicing half-hitches and bowlines, a reasonably-new iPod, two socks--one blue, one white. 

He sorts through it now, picking out clear plastic candy and gum wrappers that dot the pile like foam, and wonders if he could use the trail of scattered belongings to find Seth, like bread crumbs to find his way to a gingerbread house. Or maybe the bread crumbs were to find his way *back* from the gingerbread house. He can't remember. Not that it matters. Seth has reliably informed him that his education in some areas is sorely lacking, and has set out to remedy that. Hence the comic books (which have pretty much migrated out here permanently, and thus don't count as part of the tally on the bed), which are pretty much modern fairy tales, as far as he can tell. Then there's the globe that showed up on the console by the TV one day. Ryan couldn't figure out the point until he turned it around and saw what was drawn in red permanent marker right on the glazed surface--a circle around Tahiti, with an arrow the size of Texas pointing to it.

"Hey man, have you seen my watch? I've been looking for it everywhere." Seth's voice startles him out of his reverie and the puts the globe back on its cracked wood pedestal and Seth bounds through the open French doors. He stands there, hands shoved in his back pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. Even when Seth is stationary he's never really still.

"Uh, yeah. It's over there on the bed." He points to the pile of stuff on the bed and Seth grabs the watch and straps it on. The afternoon sun reflects off its face right in Ryan's eye and he moves to stand next to Seth, out of the sun's glare.

"Oh, man, is this all my stuff? Sorry about that. I didn't mean to forget about it." As Seth speaks he starts grabbing up his things, sounding genuinely embarrassed for being such a slob. Ryan briefly contemplates asking him about the socks, but decides there are some things that only Seth should know. Seth's still going on about not meaning to leave his stuff everywhere and how he knows this is Ryan's place and he deserves to have it the way he wants it and--

Ryan shuts him up by stuffing the blue sock in his mouth and saying, "Stop it. It's no big deal. I just thought you'd probably be missing some of this stuff by now."

Seth spits the sock out of his mouth and makes a face. "Okay, first of all, eww. That's gross. Don't do that. Second, I appreciate the consideration, but if I start leaving my underwear around, feel free to kick my ass." He stops, obviously considers what he's just said, and blushes tomato-red. "That is to say, ah, I mean--"

Ryan cuts him off this time with a wave of the hand, saying, "It's cool. I really don't mind. Seriously."

Seth just looks at him for a second and then says, "Well, okay then. Cool. I'm just gonna take this stuff now, and ah, go...put it away. Where it...belongs." He sort of backs toward the door as he talks, trying to hold everything without dropping it, and mostly succeeding.

Ryan turns and sees the iPod still on the bed and picks it up, holding it toward him. "Hey, Seth, you forgot--"

"No, no. I left that on purpose for you the other day. You know both Marissa and I agree you'd been sorely remiss in your musical education, so I put a bunch of stuff on there you should listen to. A little Johnny Cash, a little David Bowie, a little Eminem. You know, the basics." He's still backing out the door while he's talking, and while Seth can be unexpectedly graceful doing a lot of things--sailing, boarding, even dancing--walking backward down steps while simultaneously talking and trying to hold onto a pile of mismatched items is a bit beyond him. He stumbles as one foot slips off the bottom stair and barely manages to keep his feet under him. He finally just turns and walks quickly toward the house.

Ryan can't help grinning, but it fades as he turns and looks at the now mostly Seth-free room. He thinks he may have liked it better before, when there were little tide pools of Seth around the room, waiting to be found. He looks down at the one remaining bit in his hand and puts the headphones on, turning up the volume. Johnny Cash starts singing about shooting a man in Reno and Ryan decides he's going to hang on to this piece of Seth as long as he'll let him.


End file.
